Gay Harry Potter-05-1-Danny Jorrocks & the Slytherin Conspiracy-Ch 1-2
by jerome1980
Summary: We have previously learned how gay fourth-year Danny Jorrocks embarrassed Professor Umbridge with capers such as GaySoc and the Permanent Turd. But the school year wasn't all about Umbridge: now we learn about Danny's quest to make the acquaintance of every penis in Hogwarts, while watching out for the fifth of October and protecting Gay Harry Potter from a dastardly plot.


DANNY JORROCKS AND THE SLYTHERIN CONSPIRACY

Blurb

We have previously learned how gay fourth-year Danny Jorrocks embarrassed Professor Umbridge with capers such as GaySoc and the Permanent Turd.

But the school year wasn't all about Umbridge: now we learn about Danny's quest to make the acquaintance of every penis in Hogwarts, while watching out for the fifth of October and protecting Gay Harry Potter from a dastardly plot.

And something else was happening to Danny: despite his view that Everybody should love Everybody, has he met THE ONE?

Contents

1. The Fifth Virginity 1

2. A Busy First Day 11

3. Night And Day 24

4. Adrian Pucey 34

5. Spreading The Word 41

6. Tom's Midnight Adventure 51

7. Saturday Night's Alright For . . . 62

— CHAPTER ONE —_The Fifth Virginity_

It was a dark, but not stormy, night. Two great columns, like threatening giants, supported a massive pair of iron gates. There was silence. It seemed like an eerie nightmare.

Then came the sound of a motor car engine—not an ordinary sound, but the purr that came from six Muggle litres of expensive German engineering.

The purr grew louder and, at an angle of thirty degrees, a dark limousine touched down, drawing to a stop outside the open gates.

A chauffeur stepped out and opened the rear door to allow an elegantly-dressed woman to emerge. At the same time, the other rear door opened and a small shock-haired boy jumped out.

The woman waved something and a cabin trunk floated from the rear of the car and came to rest just inside the gates. A bird-cage landed on top.

The woman approached the small boy and tried to smoothe his hair.

"Daniel! We should have gone to the barber's yesterday. What will Professor McGonagall think? Have you remembered everything? You will let me know if you need anything, won't you? I packed your woolly underpants, but you might need a few more pairs; I'll send them tomorrow. And _wear_ them—you know how our side of the family is prone to Mooncalf Flu. And don't study too hard. You're only thirteen—"

"Oh, Mum, stop fretting! I've done six terms without being cursed. I'll be Okay!

The woman wrapped her arms around the boy.

"My little boy, a Fourth-year! I'm so proud!"

The boy hugged his mother and kissed her.

As she got back in the car, he called: "Bye Mum! Thanks _Mister_ Bates!" and stood waving until the car had vanished into the dark sky.

Danny opened the cage and an owl flew out, perched for a moment on Danny's shoulder, then set off on a range of wide, joyful casts.

Danny took out his wand, levitated the trunk and cage and set off down the drive. He might have been Nicholas of Cologne leading his pack-mule and followed by the rest of the Children's Crusade across the Alps, but he starting singing cheerfully—singing a song unknown to the saintly Nicholas:

_We are from Hogwarts, good boys are we,_

_We've said goodbye to our virginity,_

_We live in a castle_

_And we take it up the arse'le_

'_Cos we are from Hogwarts School!_

He paused after the first verse. He could hear wheels turning on gravel and moved to the side to allow a procession of horseless coaches pass. He could not see inside the coaches, but their torches allowed the occupants to see him. A couple of dozen coaches had passed before a girl called out: "Danny!"

For the rest of the procession he was subject to greetings, wolf-whistles, ribald remarks and one sad little girl, protected by anonymity, calling: "Danny! I love you!"

Above all the other voices, he heard: "Show us yer kit, Danny!" He recognized the raucous voice of Barry Elliott, one of his dorm-mates. Barry had been the first in the dorm to develop, and his dream puberty involved nightly inspection of his body by his four companions, who then took it in turns to pull him off.

Danny was grateful that, during his first two years at Hogwarts, his dorm-mates had been willing to explore each other sexually. Of course, it was too much to hope that all five would grow up to be gay, but he _did_ hope that that the other four would be willing and eager to spend the rest of their time at Hogwarts exploring male sexuality to a greater depth. Danny would have to take things slowly, perhaps starting with a fairly sanitized game of Twister.

Barry was bound for the Wizard Navy and would probably grow up to have a witch in every port and a dashing propensity for wizard-fun at sea.

David Ward, on the other hand, _was_ gay and would _always_ be gay. Without knowing what he was doing, and despite being a shy, mousey, boy, he had signalled his otherness from the first term by growing his hair long—_very_ long: it was down to his waist and only pony-tailed when he was astride a broom.

Then there were Nicholas White and Stephen Buckell, so completely friendly and loving. They were both Muggle-born and had had troubled childhoods. To them the dorm was their true home.

Danny mentally contrasted his dorm with Harry's dorm. They were two years older and should have been taking the lead, but Danny had made overtures to all five and been rebuffed. It was a matter of education and Danny intended to see that the new intake got a good enough education to at least know their options.

As he reached the castle, passengers from the last coaches were debouching and entering the great front door. His owl swooped in to land on his shoulder. He tickled it for a few seconds, then gave it an owl-treat, saying: "Off to the Owlery and see your friends, Tickles!"

The owl brushed his cheek with its wing feathers as it took off. Danny wondered if Harry Potter would ever stroke his cheek. He would see him in a few minutes. He did so want Harry to be his first shagee—and to enjoy it!

With his stiff penis pointing the way, he entered the castle, sent his trunk floating up the stairs and turned into the Great Hall.

Amidst the confusion he saw Harry. He looked a bit pensive. Perhaps he was down and needed comforting. Tonight might be the night!

He sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table between Dennis and Colin. There was an explosion of greetings, then everyone started jabbering as they exchanged news and told each other what they had been doing all summer.

"I wish we could tell!" said Dennis.

"We will one day, when it's all over," said Danny.

Jonny Neal leant over the table and asked: "Are you sitting comfortably, Danny?"

"So Sea Jay told you," grinned Danny.

"Of course he did! You should have started with me and worked your way up—or let me work _my_ way up. I'll show you later, if you want."

"You're third in the queue. If Harry Potter won't oblige, I'll join the dorm reunion."

Sea Jay joined in: "Just as well: Jonny and me've got a bitta catching up to do." He whispered something into Jonny's ear and Jonny smiled and whispered back.

Jonny was as tall and strong as Sea Jay. You couldn't call him good-looking and he had a fair amount of acne, but when he smiled there was a sort of inner light that touched Danny's heart.

Dennis Creevey interrupted the idyll: "I've done it too, haven't I Dan?"

His brother Colin interposed: "Don't tell the world, Den, not everyone's interested."

"We are," said Lavender Brown, "what have you boys been doing?"

"Nothing important compared to what I'm going to do." said Danny.

"What's that?" asked Lavender.

"Harry Potter! I always do the opening feast with him. This year I'm a grown-up and I'm going to offer Harry something I couldn't before. It's my big day!"

There were cheers and laughs as Danny got up and went to sit by Harry.

While the dreadful Umbridge was speaking, Danny avoided looking at her toad-like features by ranging over Harry Potter's friends. Freckle-faced Seamus, who must have split up with Lavender Brown, was staring into space. Cool, lithe Dean Thomas was looking at Harry . . . then Danny . . . then back to Harry—clearly, he too was ignoring Umbridge. Then there was Ron: the ugly, gangling Ron; Harry's best friend. Were he and Harry doing it? Was that why Harry was so unresponsive? But, as soon as the thought came, Danny knew that it wasn't so: surely Ron and Hermione belonged together; they may neither of them have known it, but, oddly matched as they were, there was a sort of joint aura uniting them.

He looked at Hermione, whose courage and witchy skills he so admired. She sensed Danny's glance, looked at him and nodded. Danny nodded back and showed her a thumbs-down. They both knew that Umbridge had been sent by the Ministry to do a hatchet-job on Dumbledore and Harry.

To his left, Neville Longbottom yawned. Danny had been enjoying their bum-to-bum warmth and took hold of Neville's hand under the table. Neville clasped Danny's hand tightly. Danny admired Neville greatly. He knew that, despite Nature having given him a wimpy appearance, Neville was a loyal, gutsy boy. He worshipped Harry Potter and he loved Danny and Colin because they worshipped Harry too. But Danny could see that the boy's soul yearned for Ginny Weasley who also worshipped Harry. Life was complicated.

Suddenly everything was over and people were leaving. Ron and Hermione had rushed off to do their prefectly duties. Harry had rushed off too, presumably because the stares and whispers were getting him down. Danny made for Draco Malfoy. He had plans for Draco this term and, unusually for Danny, these did not include sex. He said hello to Draco, mentioning their fathers, searched in vain for Adrian Pucey, who he had earlier observed eating quietly at the Slytherin table, and returned to the huddle of students filing through the door.

"Game of cards, Danny?" said Colin, "First night, you're not gonna study tonight are you?"

"No! Early night in the dorm tonight, Danny!" said Nicholas White, a fair-haired lad with a face as impish as Danny's. Despite being extremely pre-pubescent and clearly destined as one of Nature's heteros, Nick was as keen as anyone on frolicking late at night in the dorm—or at any other time and place.

"Hi Danny!" said a Hufflepuff boy in a refined Scotch accent—the sort known in his country as _Morningside_.

Danny turned. "Hi Jimmy!"

Jimmy Millar had a sharp, clever face, framed by long, black, frizzy hair. He was known for his smart dress and was wont to enliven gaps between lessons with quick sessions in lavatory cubicles with Danny.

"Danny, I'd like you to meet a friend. This is Ian Berry. We're both from Edinburgh and we saw an _awful_ lot of each other this summer. Ian's always wanted to meet you."

"Pleased to meet you, Ian." said Danny, shaking the boy's hand, "I clocked you last year and hoped the Sorting Hat would put you in Gryffindor."

Ian Berry was an olive-skinned boy with the sort of cast that is amusingly called a _lazy eye_. He was currently blushing, probably amazed that Danny had noticed him, let alone been interested in him.

"Well I'm glad he's in Hufflepuff!" said Jimmy, "and I wish you were too, Danny!"

"Houses are just a means of making some boy's beds less accessible to me," said Danny, "Has Jimmy told you that we manage to meet in other places?"

The still-blushing boy nodded.

"So perhaps the three of us will meet up soon. Would you like that?"

Ian spoke for the first time, blurting out: "I really like you, Danny!" and then blushed even more deeply.

"How about nipping off now?" said Jimmy Millar.

"Sorry, no. I've got responsibilities to the home team this evening. See you soon though!" And smiling his goodbyes he turned and headed for Gryffindor tower.

Talking of teams . . .

He raced to buttonhole Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

"Hi Angelina!"

"Danny. Don't tell me you're taking up Quidditch!"

"No. I just wanted an opinion."

"My opinion is that you're a wizard whose natural skill and training would make you a likely Quidditch star."

"Shut up, Angelina! I want to know about Adrian Pucey."

"Excellent Chaser. He's in Slytherin, sadly. But he's the only Slytherin who's never cheated. If you took up Quidditch, you'd be able to meet him."

"Angelina! You've known me for two years. When did I need help in meeting boys?"

"Well, when you _do_ meet him, meet him the night before we're playing Slytherin and tire him out."

"Or raise his game as he'd have someone to impress."

"There is that," allowed Angelina, "but, seriously: just turn up for the trials—five o'clock on Friday—no commitment."

"Seriously: not a hope. I'm a duffer on a broomstick!"

They had reached the portrait hole and climbed through.

On this first night of term the common room was in chaos. Girls' voices were predominant, and Danny momentarily wished he were in a single-sex school, but, even if they were his rivals in boy-chasing, girls were such _fun_ and soon he was exchanging holiday experiences with a swarm of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls.

His eyes strayed round the room. The first-years had gone straight up to their dorms. There were a couple of knots of serious-looking students—discussing Harry, no doubt. But elsewhere was Bedlam, with games being played and the Weasley twins noisily calling for volunteers—presumably to test their Skiving Snackboxes.

The evening wore on and, by the time Danny thought of joining Colin and Dennis, Hermione was going round the room calling out: "Nine o'clock! Fourth-years to their dormitories, please."

Colin came up to him and said: "Danny! Sea Jay and Jonny are really keen. Now Harry's fallen through, forget his dorm and your dorm. Why not come to mine?"

Danny smiled. "Better sort out my lot tonight. But I'm still saving the best for Harry!"

They parted with a kiss and, wondering if he might make an effort to slip into Harry's dorm later that night, he walked into his own dorm.

Thoughts of saving it for Harry were wiped from his mind by the joyous sight that greeted him: it was like prayer-time at a muslim nudist-camp: four little figures knelt, their heads bowed to touch the floor, their arms stretched in front of them. Four little bums stuck in the air—well, one not so little—and offered him what Harry had refused.

As soon as he had closed and locked the door, a chorus of _Pick me, Danny! Pick me, Danny!_ started. Danny laughed his head off. At the same time he was touched that the boys clearly thought that being the first recipients of his boy-juice would be an honour. His laugh changed to an elated smile as he realised that _taking things slowly_ would not be necessary.

He dashed to his bed stripped, then returned to the boys.

"Whatever happens, keep quiet and keep still," he told them.

He bent down and, in a manner that was now familiar to him, placed his hands on the cheeks of the second boy from the left. This was David Ward, quiet, long-haired, nondescript and, like Danny, destined for a life of intense gayness. He squeezed and wiggled David's bum, exposing a little brown hole so perfect in its pucker that it reminded him of the Muggle technical expression _Chocolate Starfish_.

He bent and inhaled deeply: nothing but a slight sausagey smell.

He shifted to Stephen Buckell and placed his hands on his large bum. It quivered like a jelly. Stephen was a jolly-looking boy, but he had come to Hogwarts with a hunted look in his eyes. He was Muggle-born and had suffered a lot of teasing from teachers and schoolfellows for his tubbiness. Two years at Hogwarts had restored his natural happiness. His handsome face—unusually freckly for a black-haired boy—was always breaking into smiles. If one were unkind, one might call him stupid, but his real character was in his liking for others. He already had a career-target: Wizarding Healthcare.

Stephen's fat bum had a big hole. Danny giggled. It had to be big considering the amount of food Stephen put away. Danny sniffed: just a hint of mustiness: Stephen was on the turn!

He moved to Baz Elliott. The cheeks were slightly fuzzy and slightly spotty. "Pick me, Danny!" he said.

"Quiet, idiot!" said Danny, in a not-very-good imitation of Snape.

He rubbed Barry's bum gently. It was quite rough: already becoming the bum of a rollicking sea-dog. He squeezed it and felt the deep muscular structure. He opened the cheeks and exposed a somewhat hairy hole with a more deeply-set position than most. Danny giggled as he thought of a Muggle sea-song called _Shallow Brown_. What was most interesting about this hole, though, was the fact that it was more elliptical than circular—almost a vertical slit. Danny shuddered and his erection drooped a few degrees. One day, as part of his general education, Danny had overcome his nausea and looked at the female section of an anatomy book.

He bent and took a good sniff at Barry's bumhole. There it was! The authentic generic scent of Male Bum with a unique Elliott overlay. Not as wondrous as Colin's, but he could live with this smell. He had another deep inhalation and moved on.

Nick White was the most physically immature of the four. He was as small as Danny, but he was a born sportsman and his muscles were strong and co-ordinated. His tiny bum was a dream: smaller, shaplier and sexier even than the Piers Polkiss Penis-Puller. It felt so good too! As his hands roamed over this utterly delightful body, Danny's willy leapt up to full attention and he felt a gush of pre-cum flow out. He parted the cheeks and saw that Nick's hole was in proportion: it was like a little brown pea with a sweet little dot of pink at the centre. As expected, it was nearly odourless with just a hint of a leathery sort of smell.

Danny got up. "So far so good!" he said, "You're all gorgeous!"

He was impressed by the cleanliness of the boys. He thought of the state of rent boy Darren and smiled to himself.

He returned to David Ward and placed his face between the cheeks. He licked the hole softly and felt David tense in astonishment. Then he pressed harder.

"Oh Danny! _Oh Danny!_" said David and there were answering cries of _What's he doing, Wardy?_ and _Is it Nice?_

"Quite quiet boys," he mumbled in an even-worse imitation of Professor Flitwick, then pressed his tongue further into David.

His urge was becoming stronger. He had to cut things short. He dashed over and fetched his wand. _Lubricio!_ he said to David's bum and immediately pressed his willy against the hole.

"Boys, you all know that the one who deserves it is the one who's been brave enough to be Different from Day One!" he said.

The tip slid in easily and soon he was fully inside David and twitching to and fro. He groaned with pleasure and this was a signal for the other three to jump up and gather round to spectate.

_Oh God, this is good_ he thought. He was losing his fifth, and final, virginity with his own dearly-loved bedroom-companions! He was shagging the unassuming David Ward! And he would not be pulling out! He looked down and everything was perfect: David's long hair, splayed out on either side; the narrow shoulders, the protuberant vertebrae, the pale flesh. He could feel David's bumcheeks pressing into his groin.

He pushed harder and harder, barely hearing the others asking _Is it good, Wardy? Is it good, Danny?_

When the orgasm started he thought _I'm squirting into David!_ He could not stop himself bleating _Oh! Yeah! Yeah! YEAH!_, the last at deafening volume, as he seemed to be expelling his whole body into David.

He collapsed and kissed David's back. The lads were full of questions starting with Stephen's _Did you come, Danny?_ After Danny had got his breath back, it was established that David thought it was _really nice_ but had not felt Danny's fluid entering him; Danny thought it was _totally, totally brilliant_; the watchers had thought it _fantastic_.

All four of them looked at Danny's willy admiring and feeling its wetness and stroking the recently grown pubic fuzz. The fuzz was moist too, giving Nick the idea: "David! There's probably Danny-cum inside you. Try and shit it out!" But nothing was forthcoming—not even a fart.

The sight of David's bumhole gave Barry the thought: "Wardy, will you be the first to take my juice, too?"

There was immediate opposition to idea. All the lads had noticed that Barry's kit had grown a lot over the summer. He had a real man-sized stiffie, now dripping pre-cum and a promisingly large pair of eggs.

It was Stephen who crystallised their thoughts: "We won't see you come if you shag Wardy. Give us an exhibition!"

So Barry lay on his bed, with two boys crouched on each side of him and started wanking.

Danny stroked Barry's legs and the other lads took the cue and stroked the nearest part of Barry to them.

Barry was pleased with this and immediately shot two little spurts, a big one, another little one and a final dribble. There was a chorus of _wows_—especially for the respectable four-inches that had shot out in a straight line like a meteor trail.

Danny bent down and smelt Barry's cum. "That's real man's cum, Baz!" he said and the other three had a sniff too.

Then Danny dipped his finger in and tasted the fluid. David immediately followed suit, and took a second helping. He savoured the taste then said: "I've got cum in my mouth _and_ my arse!"

The boys laughed, but Danny saw that Stephen and Nicholas were a bit dubious.

"You don't have to do what you don't want to," he said, "Everyone's different and everyone should get pleasure in their own way. And each of us wants the other four to be happy."

But Stephen and Nicholas helped themselves manfully.

Then Stephen said: _my_ pleasure would be to get a shag off you, Dan. I see you're up for it!"

Indeed, Danny was rampant and randy again.

"That would be my pleasure too, Steve!"

Stephen resumed the muslim prayer position.

Danny laughed and said: "Get up Steve and I'll show you something that I only learned last week."

He took Stephen over to his bed and arranged him on his back in the position that Sea Jay had taught him. There was another chorus of _wow!_ as the implications sunk in and yet another as Danny knelt and started licking Stephen's hole.

"Did he do that to you, David?" asked Barry.

"Yeah, it's magic!"

Danny did a _Lubricio!_ but it probably was unnecessary as his willy slid straight in. He started shagging movements. He would have liked to snog Stephen, but couldn't reach, so settled for sucking a nipple.

He could feel Stephen wanking himself and then he felt a hand stroking his bottom.

"You're arse looks brilliant!" came from David.

"Yeah!" from Nicholas and another hand started stroking.

Stephen suddenly said: "This is great . . . oh it's so good . . .oh! Danny . . .oh! . . ."

Danny started shagging harder and Stephen, with a final gasp, stopped wanking.

The reason for Barry's silence became clear to Danny when a spurt of hot fluid landed on his bottom, then a second spurt.

This was all so exciting that Danny experienced another gut-wrenching orgasm and, panting, got up and lay beside Stephen with an arm round his neck.

"I reckon I came," gasped Stephen after a bit, but a close inspection revealed no fluid.

"You must have had a dry orgasm," suggested Danny, "I used to have these."

"Whatever it was, it was brilliant!"

"And it was brilliant wanking over your arse!" came from Barry.

"Everything's brilliant!" came from Nick and all concurred.

The lads were tired—all of them had been had been up early for last-minute packing and four of them had spent hours romping on the Hogwarts Express. By unspoken agreement they switched over to the more mundane matters of unpacking, pyjamas and toothbrushes.

Before they got into bed, Danny got on a chair and made a speech: "Ladies and Gentlemen. I'd like to thank you for the welcome you gave me, which was a sight I'll never forget."

"Danny," said Barry "If you'd like to thank us for the welcome we gave you, which was a sight you'll never forget, why don't you?"

"Good idea! Thank you for the welcome you gave me, which was a sight I'll never forget. And thank you for the athletic way in which you've left me so happy and exhausted. I have one last proposal: every night, in a world threatened by Voldemort, we should remind ourselves of what really matters in this way."

He jumped down and went up to David, who was nearest, wrapped his arms tightly round him and gave him a brief kiss, sticking his tongue in as far as it would go.

Breaking off, he said "I love you, David!" and moved on to Nick.

Danny didn't know it, but it was the two-years exposure to his affection and sweetness that had conditioned the young wizards to accept something that most of their contemporaries would have viewed as unacceptably soppy.

The other four picked up the innovation willingly—keenly, even—and, after ten embraces, they went to bed—Nick very quickly, probably because he wanted to go for a dry orgasm of his own.

Later, Danny stretched out in his bed and had time to think of the wonderful day that had passed and the wonderful day that was to come before sleep washed over him.

He awoke with someone in bed with him. Harry had come to visit! He moved a hand and felt a naked torso. Harry was tougher than he looked! He let the hand wander. This was a big boy. Not Harry! He moved his head and his nose touched a neck. He moved it down to the back of the boy's armpit. There was a delicious African smell!

"Dean?" he whispered.

"Danny, I came for my bronze medal! Harry said no to you and he's got a lot on his mind, anyway; and Ron's a no-hoper for you, so here I am!"

"Oh, Dean—"

"Don't say a word! You've earned it! You're always so friendly and honest, so I'm really proud of my bronze!"

"Oh, Dean! It's the wrong sort of bronze!"

"Whadyer mean?"

"I shagged two boys tonight."

"Don' matter: if you got the energy I got the bumhole!"

"I've got the energy, you sweet boy!"

Danny charmed Dean's hole into slipperiness and moved his left hand down to locate Dean's bum. The cheeks were firm and muscular. Danny would have liked some light to show him if Dean's bum was the same shade of black as the rest of him and if it looked as beautiful as it felt.

He found the hole—not much bigger than Nick's—and pressed it with his forefinger.

"Crikey! You've got a tight bumhole, Dean!"

"Virgin bumhole waiting for you, brother!"

Even with Dean doing his best to help him, it was a hard job getting his finger up.

Danny was very horny by now. His willy was poking through the pee-flaps of his pyjamas.

"Best use the force of gravity," he said, rolling onto his back, "Why not try sitting on me?"

In one lithe motion, Dean drew up his legs, turned and crouched astride facing Danny. _A real athlete!_ he thought.

Dean felt beneath him and located Danny's willy. He lowered his bottom so that the ferret was looking down the hole, then slowly released more and more of his weight. Danny's willy went smoothly up Dean and he immediately started thrusting. Dean supported himself with knees and hands so that Danny didn't have to lift Dean with every thrust.

Danny was happy. He wasn't quite as randy as he'd been earlier, but to compensate was the fact that _he was shagging Dean Thomas!_ Big Dean Thomas who slept in the same bedroom as Harry every night!

He believed Dean's claim to a virgin hole, but he thought a fabulous boy like Dean must have had _some_ sexual activity in the past. He reached out his hand and met his largest willy yet (discounting Mundungus Fletcher's whopper, which he'd never touched and had only seen limp). It was a shade bigger than Adrian's and quite a lot bigger than the death eater Jugson's, and it was sticky! Dean was being turned on! He started gently stroking Dean but stopped almost immediately as his own orgasm crept up on him.

The waves of pleasure were as intense as earlier, but didn't last as long. He sleepily wondered if he actually _had_ pumped any boy-juice into Dean. Perhaps the mark two bronze medal was still up for grabs!

He laughed breathlessly and said: "Respect, Dean!"

"Respect yourself, Danny! I needed something to take my mind off all this stuff about Harry. It's even reached our dorm: Harry and Seamus nearly came to duelling and Ron was coming over the prefect on them."

"Oh, prefect! I forgot to take the mick. I'll put that right tomorrow. And, as for Seamus, that's just because he's had eight weeks ear-bending from his mum."

"True, but don't mention it near Seamus: he's very sensitive right now."

"You need some more relaxation, Deano! Why not slide that big, rubbery penis into my mouth?"

"This is _your_ treat, mate!"

"Exactly! _Please_ slide that big, rubbery penis into my mouth!"

Dean waddled forward and obliged. Danny took the big bell-end in his mouth and gripped the shaft. He started to suck and wanked Dean gently a few times but his hand fell away and he drifted towards sleep.

He dreamed that he had dived into an over-chlorinated Muggle swimming pool. He was at a peak of happiness and swam to the surface, spat out the water in his mouth and took a joyous breath of air.

The foamy waters were rippling over his face and sliding down to his chest. He laughed and wiped the water out of his eyes. It was unusually sticky.

_Sticky?_

He came to full consciousness and recognized the big beast crouched over him as Dean. He reached out and found the willy and took it back into his mouth. Dean's orgasm had reached the oozy stage but he was able to enjoy the last few throbs while toying with as plummy a pair of knackers as he had ever felt.

Dean was as short of breath as Danny and he continued squatting for a bit before sliding down the bed and lying at Danny's side.

Danny took off his sodden pyjama-top; then his pyjama-bottoms which he used to wipe his face and chest.

"You're a very splashy boy, Dean!"

"I've been sort of saving myself."

"For me?"

"For . . . anything that came up."

"And how did you manage to get in here?"

"A little help from the Weasley twins."

"I really must have a long consultation with them soon!"

"Danny, before I go, can I ask you a favour?"

"Of course, Deano!"

"Where I come from the lowest thing you can do is take it up the bum. If you're known as a batty-boy, you don't get no respect. You can be Prime Minister, win the Nobel Prize, save Earth from an alien invasion, score the winning goal in the FA Cup Final, but if you're a batty-boy it means nothing. You're a joke; not a proper man; inferior; contemptible—"

"Alright, alright! I get it! Not a word; I promise! But what about that snog in Diagon Alley?"

"That's nowhere near as bad. Anyway, everyone will know it was a joke except the girls who'll pretend to themselves that it was serious and see me as an attractive target for conversion."

"Good luck with the girls, then, Dean!"

"Thanks, Danny! And a good night to you!"

Dean allowed Danny a peck and crept off, a slinky shadow in the dark dormitory.

Danny's last thought before falling into a sleep full of sweet, sweet dreams was: _To think all I'd hoped for from tonight was a mild game of Twister!_

— CHAPTER TWO —_A Busy First Day_

Next morning Danny's first task was to clean up his pyjamas, sheets and pillows. Then he noticed two great dribbly splash-marks on his bed-head. Imagine nodding off through that! He thought of the pleasure he had taken when, in the form of Tom Warrington, he had pumped his, albeit lesser, spurts on the upturned faces of Colin and Dennis. He resolved to watch out for future occasions when Dean had _sort of been saving himself_ and enjoy the five-star Thomas immersion treatment while fully awake. He thought of his ruminations on cum-size at Victoria Station and decided that it was an even bigger factor than he had allowed for at the time.

Drawing back the curtains around his bed, he saw that his four friends were also waking slowly into the new day.

Far from abashment at the dubious antics of the night before, their demeanour was one of happiness. They all gave especially warm greetings to Danny, as well they might: in this world, there are millions of pubescent males whose lack of somewhere to stick their willies is a life-darkening burden. Thanks to Danny, the third-year boys of Gryffindor now had a guaranteed, everyday source of enjoyment which would keep them close and would always compensate, at least partially, for any slights and setbacks that the rest of Life could impose.

Chattering and bantering like sparrows, they washed, dressed and trouped down to the common room, which was nearly empty, and along the tortuous route to the Great Hall.

They settled together on the Gryffindor table, continuing with their chattering while spraying bits of breakfast at each other. When Danny had taken the edge of his appetite, he rose to his feet.

"Brave warrior Daniel Jorrocks renews his assault on Fortress Potter!" he shouted.

All the second, third and fourth-year boys—and some of the wilder girls—cheered and laughed encouragement as Danny made an offer to Harry which, alas, was again rebuffed.

Two big fourth-years went over and collected Danny.

"Come on Danny!" said Chris Harris, better known as Sea Jay.

"We've got plans to make!" said his friend, Jonathan Neil, as they frog-marched Danny to sit between them.

"Waste not, want not!" said Danny, drawing his wand and summoning, with a quiet _Accio!_, his half-eaten kipper from further down the table. "Specially as it was a heavy night last night!"

"Just the dorm boys?" asked Jonny.

"Yeah, we were all pleased to see each other!"

"And did I hear you tell Harry that he could be number _four_?" asked Sea Jay.

"I told you it was a heavy night!"

"We had quite a heavy night too, Danny!" said Sea Jay.

"We talked about what we'd like to do with you," said Jonny.

"It was hot!" said Sea Jay.

"_You_ were hot!" said Jonny sweetly.

"Talk me through it," said Danny, but they were interrupted by the racket from dozens of owls which came soaring in through the upper windows.

Danny received a package—the dreaded winter woollies from his mother—and a letter:

_Dear Daniel,_

_Have a good term!_

_Dad XXX_

He smiled. It was nice to know that Mum and Dad were always there.

He looked over the table and saw Ray Kelly poring over a large, pink sheet of parchment. Glancing over at the Ravenclaw table, he saw that Trinity Freeman was reading a scroll as big as one of Snape's punishment-essays. It looked as though two of the owls had had _very_ short journeys.

Young Love was so sweet! Danny felt a moment's disquiet. He wondered if there was something wrong with him: he loved so many people; perhaps he should be seeking for The One. Then he looked up and down the table and thought: _No, no, no! Love is Universal!_

His eyes were drawn to the Gryffindor first-years. There was no trace of shyness now! They were jabbering away—two or three at once—and occasionally glancing at Danny.

At the other three tables, the first-years were giving a similar performance. By the time Danny rose with Sea Jay and Jonny to go to the first lesson, Hermione, perhaps fearing a prank by the Weasley twins, switched to bossy-boots mode and stalked up to the Gryffindor first-years.

"What's the commotion?"

"It's this letter, Miss."

"May I see?"

The tiny Euan Abercrombie handed over a letter which Hermione read in silence, though Danny knew its contents:

_To All First-Year Boys_

_It's a bit of a shock coming to Hogwarts. I remember it well and I remember how lost and lonely I felt. There are some areas in particular that I wish had been explained to me by older students. I would like to tell you about my experiences of the last two years and so invite you all to a five-minute meeting:_

_Thursday7 P.M. in the Old Muniments Room (2 Doors down from Library)_

_Daniel Timothy Jorrocks (Danny to You)_

Danny sidled up to Hermione.

"I suppose you're going to find a school rule to apply to this," he said, "well it's too late: Pandora's Box is open."

"Don't be silly, Danny!" smiled Hermione, "If it's about what I think it's about, it's an excellent idea. Someone should have done it years ago. And this year, especially: it's not just about helping people; it's about uniting people; it's about friendship between houses. I bet you're in whatever equivalent of good books the Sorting Hat has."

"Sorry, I should have known you'd take a sensible view, Hermione. And I've got a plan to encourage _all_ the houses, if you know what I mean, to join in."

"Good luck!" she said and handed the letter back to Euan Abercrombie.

His first lesson of the term was Care of Magical Creatures. Ten students from Gryffindor and Ten from Slytherin strolled down to Hagrid's hut, still catching up with each others' holiday experiences.

Professor Grubbly-Plank proved to be an intelligent, friendly no-nonsense woman.

"Mornin' all!" he exclaimed, "Now it's a new school year and I've got a new creature for you. I was going to give you a fresh clutch of Blast-Ended Skrewts, which Professor Hagrid pioneered so successfully last year, but people didn't think it was the right kind of thing."

She led them to a pen which was arranged as a Muggle garden with seedlings in pots, plants in the ground, plaster (not plastic) gnomes and windmills. A number of prickly creatures roamed the pen, grubbing for things to eat. Professor Grubbly-Plank asked: "Now who can tell me what these creatures are?"

There was a general murmur of _hedgehogs_ and a Slytherin girl said loudly: _Oh, yeah! Very magical!_

"Well, let's just see!" said the professor, picking up a bowl of earthworms and tipping them into the pen.

Immediately some of the creatures ran (yes, hedgehogs can run) towards Professor Grubbly-Plank and started feasting.

The rest, though, went on a berserk wrecking spree, grubbing up plants, overturning pots and biting through the seedlings. They even acted in concert to smash gnomes and pots together.

The students watched in fascination as Professor Grubbly-Plank started dropping pieces of bread soaked in milk among the worm-eaters.

Immediately the rogue creatures made a rush for the new food and fed as innocently as the others.

"Anyone explain what we've seen?" asked the Professor.

There was a pause and then Ray Kelly said: "Er—are they Knarls, Miss?"

"Quite right, Raymond!" said the Professor, "Five points to Gryffindor! And for another five points, what's goin' on?"

They were all stumped so Professor Grubbly-Plank explained: "When I put down the worms, the Knarls thought I was tryin' to poison 'em so they got their revenge by wrecking the place; but when I put down the bread, the Knarls thought it was just for the hedgehogs so they knew they could feed safely."

There was a murmur of appreciation.

"Now can any of you see any other difference between Knarls and hedgehogs?" she asked.

A further murmur, this time of negation, came.

"Well, you're quite right," said the Professor, "There aint anything you can see. So remember about Knarls: they come up every year in the O.W.L.s"

"That was a good lesson," said Colin, as they walked back to the school.

"Yeah. Shame about the essay, though," laughed Danny.

Professor Grubbly-Plank had set them an essay: _What does Indirect Feeding of Knarls Teach us about Care of Other Magical Creatures?_

"Never mind about the essay!"

Sea Jay and Jonny had approached from behind.

"Yeah, tell us about last night, Danny," said Jonny.

"Oh, yeah, Danny," said Colin, contorting his body in joyful anticipation, "You offered Harry number _four_!"

"Well," began Danny, "I got up to the dorm—"

"What are you boys up to now?" came Ginny's voice, "You're always up to something."

The girl with Ginny giggled loudly.

Sea Jay came to the rescue with a long diatribe about Knarls which spared Danny from having to talk to _girls_ about sex.

They reached the _mêlée_ on the front lawn. Danny was looking for Adrian Pucey, but his classmates were clamouring for the postponed revelations. He was about to begin again when . . .

"Danny!"

It was Jimmy Millar. Having caught Danny's attention with a shout, he now pressed his lips to Danny's ear and whispered: "I _really_ need a piss!"

He had his little olive-skinned friend, Ian Berry, with him.

The ever-obliging Danny set off with the other two calling back to his classmates: "Sorry lads—priority call!"

"Is it true you do bumming now, Danny? Everyone's talking about it," said Jimmy.

"Give or take . . ."

The two boys giggled, though Ian seemed overawed by the occasion.

Jimmy continued: "Only Ian wants to try it but my tadger's too big."

"I'm sure mine's not."

He turned to Ian: "It's only a tiddler, Ian. Would you like it poked inside you?"

Ian turned the colour of a Red Indian and nodded.

They went to the Boys' on the ground floor of the main building. The stalls were palatial compared to Muggles' cottages and the Leaky Cauldron.

Jimmy had his underpants down in a trice and signed Ian to do the same.

"Wait a minute," whispered Danny, "New Rules: we always start with . . ."

He drew Jimmy into a deep snog, divining Jimmy's inexperience from his initial start and his subsequent clumsiness.

He made it short—this was only a fifteen-minute break—and turned to Ian who knew what was coming and gamely followed Danny's tongue as it roamed around his mouth. As Ian clutched Danny tightly, Danny felt Jimmy's hand stroking his back—and presumably Ian's hands.

He broke off again and crouched to look at Jimmy's willy. It was long, but quite skinny, and Danny was sure that, with a little love and endearment, it would slip into Ian.

He turned Jimmy round and sniffed his hole.

Soap.

He gave it a couple of licks.

Soap.

He got Jimmy to stand on the pedestal and turned his attention to Ian, who was looking astonished—probably thinking _Did Danny _kiss_ Jimmy's bumhole?_

Jimmy wondered if he was taking things too quickly for Ian, but decided no: Ian was keen to be bummed, after all.

Danny fondled Ian's willy. It was tiny—even for a second-year—and his balls had not dropped. Yet he had sexual feelings and Danny felt proud that this day would be a big landmark in Ian's life.

He wrapped his lips around the willy and sucked gently. There was no hint of an erection. Nerves, thought Danny.

He turned the boy round and set him bent over the pedestal with his hands bracketing Jimmy's legs and braced against the wall.

He smelt the hole. There was a generic, sausagey, young-boy-bodyish sort of pong which told him that Ian had not washed down there for a few days. Good man!

He did a Lubricio and gently pushed a forefinger in.

"Is that OK?" he asked.

"It's nice," came the reply.

Without any more faffing about, he replaced his finger with his willy and found it easily entered to its full extent.

He felt a rising lust which made his whole body want to go into bang-bang mode but he had another thing to do first: he tugged Jimmy into a squat and looked at his penis.

Like Sea Jay, Jimmy had been an early developer and had developed a big bush over the holidays. Danny stroked it and found its texture matched the hair on Jimmy's head: an unusual combination of frizziness and silkiness.

He took the willy into his mouth, simultaneously starting his thrusts and nudging Ian's buttocks.

Jimmy came at once, surprising Danny who only avoided a coughing session by his superb wizard reactions which allowed him to close his airway and divert Jimmy's first spurt down to his stomach.

There was a lot of come for a thirteen-year-old—more even than with Baz Elliott; and it was hot—or perhaps Danny's mouth was cold after spending the morning outside.

Danny relaxed his sucks after the last of Jimmy's spurts and started banging Ian harder.

For a minute he thrust, revelling in the feel of Jimmy's bum in his hands, the flaccid willy in his mouth and the knowledge that he was initiating yet another gay boy into the joys of physicality.

He had a top-knotch orgasm and halted his movements, panting and leaking Jimmy-cum from his mouth.

They separated at once and started sorting out their clothing.

"What do you think, Ian?" whispered Danny.

"It's so nice. I feel so happy."

"You've come a long way in eight weeks, Danny," said Jimmy.

It was true. Their previous activity had been confined to fiddling and wanking. This became more exciting when Jimmy started to come, but at that time Danny hadn't any idea that cum could be swirled round the mouth for _pleasure_.

They left the cubicle, nodding without embarrassment to the boys they knew who were using the lavatory for more conventional purposes.

As they passed into the corridor, they said their _see yers_ which were interrupted by:

"JORROCKS!"

It was Ron Weasley.

"Hello Ronnie!" smiled Danny.

"Don't call me _Ronnie_; I'm a prefect."

"Sorry, Sir! I did see your lovely bright new badge. I like it. It diverts my gaze from your face."

"Don't add cheekiness to your crimes."

"Oh! Crimes plural!"

"All this mucking about in the toilets. It's got to stop. You've got away with it in the past because you've been doing it with the prefects. Well here's one prefect who's incorruptible. It's detention next time I see you."

"Incorruptible, eh? Does the phrase _Skiving Snackboxes_ mean anything to you?"

Ron blushed.

"That's got nothing to do with it. We're talking about your activities in the toilets."

"What, you mean the fact that I sometimes hold secret meetings in there? We're wizards; we always have secret things to talk about."

"I'm not talking about talking—er, I mean—well, you know what I mean."

"I suspect you mean Sex. If so, you must first establish that it's wrong and second prove it."

"I don't—"

Danny interrupted: "On the first point: there's nothing in school rules or wizard law; and have you not heard of the Wizard Rights Act of 1832?"

"Er—"

Ron had, not surprisingly, never heard of this non-existent act.

Danny went into the attack: "Are you really a Gryffindor? We're meant to stand up against discrimination. What do you think Harry Potter's stance would be?—now _there's_ someone who's incorruptible."

"Er—"

"And after I offered you my loving—second only to Harry. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Besides, there's the question of advancing wizard knowledge."

"Whatyer mean?" mumbled Ron.

Danny drew close and whispered: "I want to find out if your cum tastes like Fred and George's."

Ron blushed even more and could only manage "Er—"

He was saved by the bell.

"Come on, Ronnie, darling! Which way are you going?"

They set off down the corridor and Ron said: "Look Danny, can't you just keep it discreet?"

Danny snorted: "There's been centuries of keeping it discreet."

"Well, as long as you don't call me _darling_ in public."

"Only in private, then. . . . and any time you want a bit of private time with me . . ."

"In Harry's immortal phrase: N.O. spells NO."

"Harry's warm-hearted and one day he'll say Y.E.S. spells YES, and when he makes me the happiest boy in the world, don't take the mick out of him."

"Never!" said Ron.

"Well, you weren't on speakers for much of last year."

"We all make mistakes."

"Then perhaps you can just watch the two of us doing it."

"No fear!"

"Think about it anyway. You are in Gryffindor, after all. You're allowed to tickle your own _draco dormiens_."

Ron laughed. It was hard to be cross with Danny for long.

They parted at the first-floor landing and actually smiled at each other. Danny's banter would continue but there would no longer be an edge of Harry-related jealousy about it.

Danny's next lesson was English and Latin with Mrs Englishen-Latin—her real name was, of course, Mrs English.

The lesson was ridiculously simple for Danny so he took the opportunity to plan his campaign on the topics of _The Fifth of October_ and _You-know-where_.

He was sure it all centred on Slytherin and he would have to make three parallel approaches: Adrian Pucey via his sexuality, Draco Malfoy through their fathers' connection and any Slytherin first-years who turned up for his gay help-sessions.

As Mrs E-L droned on—making, incidentally, mistakes that Danny could have corrected—his mind turned to the big non-Voldemort issue: male homosexual activity in Hogwarts School.

There were a number of current venues: empty classrooms, the grounds, the bogs, one's own dorm; but for various reasons, these were less than perfect: Danny wanted a permanent set-up whereby any two (or more) Hogwarts boys could spend a whole night together in security and comfort.

First stop would be the twins, but he reckoned that the real advances would have to come from himself: could he Disillusion a room, for example? Could he Illusion a sleeping figure in its own bed?

Then there was the question of alarms and passwords: since the Sirius Black scare, dormitory charms guarded against anyone slipping from one dorm to another at night.

Fred and George would sort that out for him, but inter-house was far more difficult than inter-dorm. The house portals were now magicked so that their password only worked for house members. Disillusionment Charms seemed to be indicated again.

Sighing he drew _Ocular Magic _from his bag and, for the rest of the lesson, submerged himself in it.

In the Charms class that followed, Danny had to pay greater attention. To his mortification he found himself deficient when it came to some straightforward charms. In the tasks that required pairing off, he worked with Luna Lovegood and even the vague Luna showed more precision than Danny in some of the basics.

He realised that he was a good runner but stumbled sometimes in walking. He must teach himself to concentrate more and, by the end of the lesson, he was totally focused in the world of Colour-Change Charms.

When Professor Flitwick released them, the class headed quickly and noisily towards lunch. Someone barged into Danny, turned and smiled: "Sorry, Danny!"

It was a pretty black-haired boy called Adam Watts and he had produced a particularly sweet smile, even allowing for the fact that fourth-year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were comfortable with each other and as polite as might be expected.

Danny's Hogwarts sexual interest had so far been centred on older boys. His fiddling with youngsters—the Creeveys, Jimmy, his dorm-mates and a few others—had been driven by Friendship and Love more than by Sex.

Now he felt a sense of elation as he realised that Sea Jay wasn't a freak: Danny's class-mates—four houses of them—were hot fourteen-year-olds with a tempest of hormones raging inside. True, half of them were girls and some of the rest might not be persuadable, but if Adam's smile was indicative, there were an awful lot of little boys who must now be thought of as big boys—big boys whose balls would enjoy being emptied by Danny's ministrations.

Moreover, since he had started squirting properly, he had lusted after little boys too; he had really enjoyed doing Ian Berry.

He smiled with sheer joy at the situation: he was a versatile gay boy surrounded and fancied by loads of other gay boys.

"Whatyer thinking of Danny?" asked Colin.

"Sex!"

"Tell us about last night."

"After lunch."

"No! Before lunch! Jonny! Sea Jay!"

The three of them bundled Danny onto the front lawn and Dennis came running up.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Danny's going to tell all!" said Sea Jay.

So Danny took the four of them through his adventures in the dormitory.

"This mysterious number three . . ." said Colin.

"I promised I wouldn't tell; all I'll say is that it wasn't Harry."

"Was it Ron Weasley?" asked Dennis, "Why was he shouting at you at break?"

"No further comment!"

"Yes, further comment!" said Sea Jay, "What about you and Jimmy Millar and—what's his friend called?"

"Ian Berry," said Danny, "That was just a quickie: I did Ian in the bum and sucked off Jimmy."

Dennis Creevey bounced: "Can I be number five, Dan? It's a prime number and I really want your juice."

"OK, Den."

"Now? Let's go to the classroom 3E store-room."

"Food first!" said Danny, and the others agreed that food was number one priority, though it was five erections that pointed the way to the castle.

After lunch, Danny asked Dennis to wait for him and approached the twins who were out on the front lawn seeking more volunteers for their Skiving Snackboxes.

Danny shooed away the watching crowd.

"Hiya Fred 'n' George; can I have a quiet word please?"

"Of course!" said a twin, "And thanks for volunteering."

"You don't want the money, I guess," said the other, "you want certain magical fluids emanating from certain magical Weasley organs."

"Happy to oblige!" said the first twin, "I think payment might be made before the trial as you might not be able to enjoy it afterwards."

"But then he might vomit it up."

"That _would_ be a waste," agreed the twin.

Danny was laughing: "Boys, boys! I wouldn't touch your Skiving Snackboxes with a Limousine Broomstick. It's about another matter."

"Fire away, Danny!"

"I need to be able to go alone from one dorm to another at dead of night without raising an alarm."

The twins looked at each other.

"Difficult."

"Yeah, difficult."

"We can only do it by slinking in the wake of a genuine member."

"When you find out, let us know."

"What do you mean let you know?" said Danny impatiently, "You told Dean!"

The twins looked at each other again.

"Whoever told you that was having you on."

"Dean Thomas told me."

"Then Dean's having you on."

"But—"

Danny stopped himself just in time: Dean's visit was secret.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell."

And Danny could not persuade them otherwise.

He wandered away slightly hurt but then consoled himself that perhaps it was a Weasley family secret which Dean had been given, or had picked up through sharing a dormitory with Ron.

He perked up when he saw Dennis hanging about by the door. He was accompanied by a crowd of boys which, Danny saw with interest, included Christopher Gillies. It was Chris's brother Patrick—six years older than Chris—who had been the first to suck Danny's baby willy and whose own willy was the first grown-up one that Danny had touched.

Perhaps Chris would be totally gay like his brother, or maybe willing to make do for a bit. The prospects were not good, though, as Chris's best friend was Jimmy Peakes who, even in first year, had been sniffing around the girls.

The crowd had been hoping to spectate but Danny told them: "Just me and Dennis—and Colin, of course."

"No, just you two," said Colin, "it's Dennis's special moment."

So they went up to the third floor and shut themselves in the store-room.

They did a SICK (Security, Inspection, Cuddle, Kiss) and Dennis was soon bent over the lowest shelf with Danny grinding hard at his bumhole.

"Tell me when you come," said Dennis, "I want to know if you can feel a squirt."

"I don't think you can," panted Danny, as he nibbled Dennis's ear.

He banged away for a long time feeling great joy at the prospect of squirting his juice into sweet Dennis but, at the same time, feeling slightly sad that he couldn't do the same to Colin. _Harry, for goodness' sake look after of your number one fan!_ he thought.

He was also aware that his willy was a little bit sore. He had spent much of the previous week with a sore bottom. This was different: he didn't enjoy it at all, whereas the painful twinges from his ringpiece had had overtones of pleasure.

At last he was able to whisper _I'm coming!_ to Dennis who felt nothing except an urge to bum Danny and speedily followed up that urge, coming as quickly as Jimmy Millar.

They had a last loving kiss before leaving the cupboard.

"Good place, Den!" said Danny "How did you find it?"

"It's used by some of the smokers."

"Smoking Indoors! But what about the smell?"

"Oh, they've got secret potions and charms and things, like I've got a secret potion in my botty." Dennis giggled.

"I don't think there'll be much," laughed Danny, "I was full seventeen hours ago, but I was probably running on empty with you."

"As long as there's some!" said Dennis, nudging his body against Danny's as they walked down a corridor.

They passed Professor Snape on the stairs but the only communication was a sour look from the professor.

They had to go to their dormitories to collect their books.

"What you got, Den?" asked Danny.

"Double Englishen-Latin," grimaced Dennis, "What about you?"

"Double Muggle Studies(excused), so I'll probably work outside for a bit."

What he didn't tell Dennis was that it was seventh-year games for Hufflepuff and Slytherin that afternoon.

They met Colin in the common room.

"Is it _leaking_, Den?" he said.

"Not enough to leak, I'm afraid," said Danny.

"Enough to make me a real man!" said Dennis.

They had a quick three-way hug and left for their Classes.

Danny's experience of the Muggle world was such that Professor McGonagall, after setting Danny a mock O.W.L. at the end of second-year, suggested that he found something else to do during Muggle Studies periods.

She did, however, resist Danny's suggestion that English and Latin should be treated similarly.

"Professor English tells me that you are still using the subjunctive in antecedent clauses."

"In Latin?"

"Of course in Latin; though I myself once heard you saying _If I'd have known that, I'd never have gone_."

"That was a joke, Miss; American Muggles do it!"

"Well, Daniel, with that sort of joke, if the wind changes, you'll be stuck doing that all your life."

"Yes, Miss."

So Danny had stoically endured Professor English's class but now, instead of staying with Colin and the rest for Muggle Studies, he merely dropped off his Muggle Gay books, to Professor Burbage's surprise, and went to the Library.

He revised Charms for a time, made a start on Professor Grubbly-Plank's essay and wandered down to the Quidditch practice field.

Games were not compulsory in the sixth and seventh years. There were, in fact, more spectators than active students. Most of the spectators were female and were concentrating on the serious Quidditch training which was going on high above them under the horsey eyes of Madame Hooch.

Danny's eyes too were on the Quidditch players—on Adrian Pucey in particular.

Danny was not an expert but he thought Adrian looked a good player but, unlike his capped comrades Warrington and Montague, he was neat, compact and unflashy.

Danny sat on the grass bank and studied his Charms book between plays. After a time, the book totally grabbed him and the Quidditch became a mere background noise until . . .

"Oh, Pucey! Pay attention!"

He looked up. Adrian was hovering and staring at Danny.

For a moment their eyes met. Even at fifty yards, Danny could envisage Adrian's voluptuous, go-to-bed eyes.

With a jerk, Adrian turned his attention to the game and kept it there for the rest of the period. Danny laughed: that was a good idea of Angelina's.

When Madame Hooch blew three blasts on her whistle, the players descended and mingled with the spectators.

If the world had turned differently, Danny would now be intercepting Cedric Diggory.

Danny had never really fancied Cedric, who was a bit effeminate for his taste—the Muggle word _Pansy_ came to mind—but, after the Christmas ball, at which Cedric had danced all night with his male partner, Danny had viewed him as _the_ great gay hero of Hogwarts.

He had anticipated recruiting Cedric as leader and spreader of the gay gospel, but it was not to be: Cedric was dead; Voldemort was alive and Danny was going to intercept Adrian Pucey, whose father was doing goodness knows what sort of evil on Voldemort's behalf.

He set off for the school, slowly walking and reading his Charms textbook. Nothing unusual in that: Hogwarts was well-used to seeing Danny at his studies at all sorts of times and places.

Occasionally he glanced behind him and adjusted his course and speed according to Adrian's progress.

At one stage Adrian was concealed within a knot of Slytherins but when Danny looked again he was walking by himself. He was only twenty yards away—near enough for Danny to be dazzled by the bright colours on Adrian's broomstick.

When Danny glanced again, Adrian was fifteen yards away and had slightly veered towards Danny. So the interceptor had become the bait!

At the critical moment, Danny turned and smiled.

"Er—" said Adrian.

Danny laughed and thought that Ron Weasley must have loaned Adrian his script-writer.

"Hello!" he said, "It's Adrian, isn't it?—I mean Pucey."

"Yeah," said Adrian, then, after a pause: "Gryffindor spy?"

"I'm not much interested in Quidditch," said Danny, then after a pause that exactly matched Adrian's: "I think you're good."

"I'm a bit out of practice; I had to work through the holidays, but I loosened up OK today so I hope to stay on as a team Chaser."

"I told you: I'm not much interested in Quidditch."

There was a pause.

The implication must have sunk in, but Danny thought that he'd done enough for one day.

In any case, Madame Hooch came bustling by.

"Good work, Pucey! And Jorrocks: I'm pleased you're taking an interest at last. It's a shame that blasted Wronsky Feint gave us another two fractures."

She bustled onwards and the two boys looked at each other.

"I gotta run," said Danny, "I'll be late. See yer, Pucey!"

He ran towards the school well-satisfied. If Adrian had any courage he should be receptive to Danny's next move.

He needed a pee and had a stall next to a Hufflepuff sixth-year called Zacharias Smith—a tall, thin, good-looking boy who turned out to have a tall, thin, good-looking willy.

"Not bad!" said Danny, leaving the boy speechless.

The next lesson was History of Magic and he slid into his seat next to Colin just as Professor Binns was starting to drone.

"Still five, Dan?" asked Colin.

"Shh!" said Danny.

HoM was a fascinating subject and, if you were prepared to concentrate, Professor Binns' drone was enjoyable.

Colin could not concentrate and Danny twice had to brush away Colin's hand when he initiated conversations in Morse Code—a system which it looked as though Sea Jay and Jonny were using throughout the lesson.

At dinner that night, the chief topic of conversation and dispute was the fact that Professor Umbridge had given Harry Potter a week's worth of detentions for persisting in his claims about the death of Cedric and the return of Voldemort.

However, whatever happens on the larger stage, human interest always homes in on Sex and word soon spread that Danny had a sore knob. Everyone liked Danny, but he was subject to much ribaldry.

"This comes from poking about in things that _do_ concern you," said Sea Jay.

"All good ends come to a thing," said Jonny.

"There's just too many tight-arsed people about, Dan," said Colin.

"What's it all about?" asked Ginny's friend Bethany.

"Boys' stuff; don't ask," said Ginny.

"It's Danny's time of the month," Lavender Brown called over.

"I didn't know—" began Bethany.

"They don't, Beth," said Ginny, "She's pulling your leg."

"_Danny_ won't be pulling anything tonight," spluttered Jonny.

"Except the cap off the Dittany," said Sea Jay.

"I'll do it for you, Danny," said Dennis.

"Toss you for it," said his brother, and a roar of laughter, with Lavender's being particularly raucous, ended the debate and they turned their attention to the food.

After dinner, Danny followed Dean Thomas, who was walking with Seamus through the great oak doors.

He called Dean over.

"Can I have a word Deano?"

"Yeah, man!"

"It's about last night."

"Shh!" Dean looked alarmed and glanced at Seamus who was waiting a few feet away.

"It's OK; it's about your charm to get you into my dorm. You said the twins told you but they deny all knowledge."

Dean looked bemused: "I don't know why they wouldn't tell you Danny, but me and Seamus are going for"—dropping his voice to a whisper—"a cig and we'll gen you up."

He called to Seamus: "Danny's coming; he wants to know about Juvies—Oh! That's it, of course! Fred and George are seventeen."

Danny was confused for a moment and then twigged: "Oh! Sea Jay told me about spells that obliviate from your mind when you're seventeen—he uses them to smoke too."

"That's it; they're called Juvenilia and they're hundreds of years old; passed down from student to student—provided they're under seventeen, of course."

"And don't any adults know about them? Not even Professor Dumbledore?"

"Nobody really knows but as long as they don't stop them, who cares?"

"And are they detectable by a _Confundus_ or a _Priori_ _Incantatem_?"

Seamus joined in: "Nobody knows that, either. There's only one thing we know: that they won't work if you're trying to harm someone."

"Benign Charms," said Danny, "Professor Flitwick talked about them last year."

"There's something else:" said Dean, "Even when you're both under seventeen, you can't just tell them to people: they have to ask."

"But doesn't that mean some of them go extinct?" asked Danny.

"Ah, that's the clever thing," said Seamus, "None of them will work for you until you know them all; and, since they're unwriteable, that's quite a memory test."

"So if someone asked us for a spell to get into Filch's office they'd also have to learn about undetectable smoking, which _we_ need, and sneaking into other dorms, which _you_ need," said Dean.

"What a brilliant system!" said Danny, as they reached a secluded spot behind the broom sheds.

Seamus and Dean invoked various concealment charms and lit their cigarettes. Then they recited the Juvenilia Charms that Danny would have to remember.

By the start of their second cigarette, Danny was word-perfect—he had a very good memory.

As the two fifth-years puffed away, Danny wondered about their relationship. They had each done some sexual favours for Danny and, even though the motivation had been Friendship, they had enjoyed themselves.

Danny thought of the many hours they must have spent in this secluded spot, with lips wrapped around phallic objects and erections coming and going. Had they ever . . .?

Danny remembered Seamus: _I'm not gay!_ and Dean: _You don't get no respect_.

On the whole, he decided that they'd neither take the big step of asking: they would lose face and, anyway, they were both interested in girls.

Before they returned to the castle, Danny successfully did the Juvenile Charm _Create Puritatem_ three times and it was in a mood of great glee that he entered the Gryffindor common room.

There were plenty of people clamouring for his attention but this was term time: whatever his sex-life and Scumbag-life, there was work to be done and he sat down with Stewart Appiah for mutual support in producing the essay for Professor Grubbly-Plank.

Stewart had grown up in Ghana and knew dozens of Magical Creatures which would never appear in O.W.L.s, but he had derived a lot of general principles which were interesting to Danny. In return, Danny filled in Stewart about European creatures—persuading him, for example, that the Caudabi, a limbless two-tailed monkey, was not native to Britain.

Danny made a mental note to try and spot Stewart's willy sometime. Black ones made a pleasant change and the last time he had seen it Stewart's was _very_ black; it was, however, still a little boy's willy and Stewart was surely ripe by now.

They worked diligently until, at eight-thirty it was time to go to the Astronomy Tower.

It was a lot of fun identifying the constellations and looking at the stars and planets through a telescope.

Suddenly, the planet Mars went out of focus. What had Professor Sinistra said?

She had been talking about the wonderful show of Perseid meteors she had seen and alluded to the forthcoming Draconid shower on the fifth of October.

The fifth of October!

And it wasn't just the Draconids that happened then, but the Hogsmeade weekend. He had read the Hogwarts Calendar posted in the common room, but not taken in the date. On the fifth of October, Harry might be outside the protection of Hogwarts.

He thought back to Professor Trelawney's prophecy:

_Think over, think over the fifth of October,_

_Piggy-wig, soldiers and booze._

_The Dark Lord should hasten to harry and chasten_

_And finish the boy who he rues._

He supposed the Headmaster would have put together the same facts as he had, but, just in case he hadn't, he ran to the Owlery after the lesson ended, played with Tickles and sent:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Just in case you hadn't notice, there is a clash of events:_

_Hogsmeade Weekend_

_Draconid Meteor Shower_

_Yours Jorrocks (D.) (Gryffindor)_

He went to the common room and found his dorm-mates had already gone up.

Remembering the sight that had greeted him on the previous night, he wondered what was to come.

It turned out to be a bit milder: well-behaved boys getting into pyjamas, smiling at Danny and greeting him.

"Up for anything, Danny?" asked Baz Elliott.

"Too tired and sore and shagged out."

"Give us a look at the famous organ."

The four boys gathered round as Danny took off his robe and underpants. His willy was slightly red and shrivelled. It showed no sign of life, even when Baz retracted the foreskin.

"It's not—er . . ." said Nick White.

"It's OK for me!" said Baz.

He had acquired an instant erection and started to rub himself.

"Yeah, gimme some healing ointment!" laughed Danny.

As four pairs of eyes watched avidly, Baz wanked himself to a climax and splashed over Danny's pleasure-garden.

Giggling, Stephen Buckell gently spread the sticky fluid over Danny's cock and balls.

Through all this, Danny felt the joy of Friendship but not a hint of sexual urge.

The other lads were more excited and, as Danny went to ablute, were feeling each other's stiffies and giggling with pleasure.

Danny kissed and cuddled them all, assured them that he loved them and got into bed.

He drew the curtains and was soon asleep, though not before setting his internal wizard alarm.


End file.
